


In Waiting

by muuchan



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: M/M, mikleo suffering, seraphim develop slowly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-07 12:03:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5455829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muuchan/pseuds/muuchan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which, sometimes, there's a benefit to an uncharacteristically long wait...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Moontyger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moontyger/gifts).



> Happy Holidays to my giftee! I hope you enjoy this fic. :)
> 
> Also beta-ing was done by NightMistress. Any mistakes left are mine!

Rose was in her eighties when she finally settled down. Up until then she was up and about, bursting with the energy of someone fifty years younger. If it weren’t for the fact that she wasn’t the Shepherd anymore – officially and for five years by now – everyone was sure she’d be purifying malevolence until her dying breath. Mikleo certainly thought so and that was why he was unpleasantly surprised when his old friend didn’t welcome them personally when they, the Shepherds’ and their entourage, returned from a pilgrimage through Rolance and Hyland.

He found her in bed later, sitting up and laughing, but nevertheless bed-ridden.  It wasn’t the first time Rose had been bed-ridden –  Mikleo could name a few instances, some from the Age of Chaos decades past – but it was the first time he’d seen her like that in years. Rose was a woman of action, never settling for sitting on one place, never letting herself be stuck in bed just resting. Alarm bells rang in his head at this sight. He couldn’t help but notice how frail her arms seemed when she wasn’t waving them about, or how small she looked in the middle of the bed.

“Doctor’s orders,” she explained offhandedly when she noticed Mikleo’s eyes settled on her for too long. Naturally, Mikleo’s eyebrows furrowed deeper at this, so Rose continued, “I fell… you know, slipped on something. Broke my leg but it isn’t too bad…”

She let out small depreciating laugh before shrugging and turning to the (now) full-fledged Shepherd in their midst. Raphael had made a pact with Lailah to be the new Shepherd a little over a year ago, but now – and with the completion of all the Shepherd’s trials – he was _officially_ the new Shepherd.   After Rose’s retirement, her squires had handled all purification duties. They all thought they’d have to rely on squires for years and years – there was a gap of about twenty years between Sorey and the Shepherd that came before him, after all – but somehow Raphael had turned up and here they were.

It was the end of an era and, Mikleo thought with a sense of dread, the dawn of an inevitable parting.

Rose was human and like all humans, her time was limited. Mikleo hadn’t forgotten, but he hadn’t exactly thought about it much. With Rose being so active, so invincible seeming – even when she visibly got old – it was easy for Mikleo to forget about her humanity. It reminded him, too, that he was Seraph. He’d lived his life so far like a human. He didn’t have hundreds of years behind him like Zenrus, Lailah, Zaveid and Edna did. All he had was the odd eighty or so years he’d lived. Soon, he’d be living the life of a Seraph and it made him somewhat uneasy. What would it be like to live longer than most people he knew? Would he eventually grow weary of watching them commit the same mistakes made over and over again? He’d drawn a line between humans and him, identified so strongly as _Seraph_ most of his life, and yet he felt…

He didn’t know what he felt. Or if he should put a name on it.

Rose was up and walking – not running – days after that. She had a new accessory to carry around with her too; a wooden cane she joked was her new weapon. Mikleo thought that, finally, the uneasy feeling would go away after seeing her up and about again. But it didn’t.  

He never brought it up, of course. It was easy not to. He was used to keeping things to himself – confident in his ability to deal with his problems on his own – that it never occurred to him to even talk to someone about it. And since nobody seemed to notice, Mikleo thought that things would continue the way they were. It was just another thing to mull about on his lonesome and, at the very least, it wasn’t anything too serious. Or so he thought.

Rose had him cornered one day, demonstrating that she could still stand on her own two feet as she blocked his path with her cane.

“I’m not dying, you know?” she told him right then and there before sighing and putting the cane down so she can lean on it. “I may be a cripple right now, but don’t look at me like I’m gonna drop dead any moment.”

“H-huh…. What… I didn’t-?”

“Don’t look at me like I was born yesterday either, _Meebo_ —“ she tilted her head sideways  and put on her best threatening stare, “— you had this look on your face. And you kept looking at me like— argh, it made me wanna deck you.”

“I… I really wasn’t.” Mikleo hung his head. When he looked back up, Rose was looking at him with what he thought might be a look of worry. He realized then that, _maybe_ , he was looking at her differently ever since that day. Right now, for example, she _did_ look different—far from the young woman he first met decades ago – with lines and wrinkles that made her look both wise and fragile at the same time. He shook his head and sighed in defeat. “Maybe I was.”

“Good to know you’re willing to admit it.” Rose said triumphantly and, if she could, would have placed both her hands on her hips. She settled for just one with her other hand holding her cane.

“… I didn’t mean it.”

“Well, yeah. Figured that one out—“ she shook her head. “Hey, do you think we could take this somewhere else? My feet are killing me… “

Mikleo blinked. “What? We’re—“

“Going to talk more,” Rose finished for him as she took his hand and led him to the nearest chair she could find. Fortunately for them, Mikleo was coming out of the library when Rose found him, so Rose led him back to it and took her place on one of the cushy chairs in the reading area. She had him take a seat beside her and even used that motherly tone of authority she’d picked up from somewhere years ago on Mikleo to keep him from bolting away. Or just standing around.

“So…” Rose took a deep breath. Somehow, she continuing holding onto his hand. “I’ve been meaning to do this talk for a while now….  I know I told you off for looking at me strangely these past few days but- let’s be real…” she sighed and then paused, as if bracing herself. “I know I’m getting old so you thinking I might die soon isn’t exactly unwarranted.”

Mikleo started, surprised.

“ _But_ I’m not dying anytime soon so don’t go there. I just- I think now’s the right time to talk about this. I worry about you, Mikleo – Lailah and the others too… but they’ve got more time to deal with it than I do so… here I am.”

“There’s nothing to worry about. I’m fine…” Mikleo frowned as he mumbled.

“Yeah, yeah. I know… you look fine. But… you know, you were fine too when Sorey left.”

“Why are you even bringing that—“

“I’m just saying. I don’t want you bottling things up, Mikleo. Like you did then—like you’re doing now.” Rose pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “Look, when I’m gone, you’re gonna be have one less someone to pry things like this out of you. You might even decide human friends aren’t worth it if they’re going to grow old and die before you… and I don’t want that to happen, Mikleo. Please don’t bottle things up. I sure wouldn’t have minded you thinking all those grim things … if you talked to me about it instead of looking miserable.”

“I’m sorry if I sound like I’m the only one who’s ever helped you not bottle things up—“ Rose continued, “But maybe that’s also because… I know I don’t have long too. If I put this off… when am I going to have this conversation? And I want to tell you this myself. Call it… making up for what I can’t do.”

“Rose…”

She withdrew her hands then, clasping them together on her lap.

“I thought a lot about dying too, you know. These past few days. Kind of dramatic when I just broke a leg…, “ she admitted with a sheepish smile.  “Thought about the things I couldn’t do. I think at some point I was thinking that even if it was impossible I’d _somehow_ make things right so that Sorey can come back sooner. I wanted to let Alisha see him too… I want to travel with everyone, see the world again… continue living—wait for Sorey with you.”

“But you can’t.”

Rose shook her head. “No-ope. It’s hard to wrap my head around that sometimes. When you’re young, you think things will last forever—but anyway. What was I going to say?”

“Why are you even asking me, you’re the one who dragged me here…”

Rose chuckled. “Guess I’m getting forgetful… oh. There it is! You know, for years… I wondered how you were after Sorey left. None of us have seen you cry about it. And I’d been wondering, all this time, if you just… bottled it up and forgot about it. Well…. How was it?”

“I… “ Mikleo sank down into his chair as he thought. Did he cry? No, he hadn’t. “I didn’t have a reason to… he said he was going to back. I… believe him.”

Rose hummed. “Do you think you’ll be fine? When I’m gone.”

Mikleo frowned. “I don’t get why you’re asking me this…” he sounded exasperated.

“Just answer me.”

It’ll be sad, he was sure. Just like Sorey not being at his side was sad. But he was fine now, wasn’t he?

“…I’ll be fine, Rose.”

She didn’t look convinced but at least she didn’t press him on that matter.

“Promise me you’ll talk to someone if you feel sad about… well… anything, okay?”

“Is this really all you wanted to talk to me about…?”

“So what if it is? There’s nothing wrong with talking about things—even small things like this,” she crossed her arms across her chest and looked sour. “Well, _Meebo?_ Make a pact with your old Shepherd,” she demanded.

Mikleo rolled his eyes. “I… I promise.”

Before Mikleo had even finished uttering the words to that, Rose got up her chair to hug him.

“And I promise I’ll stick around for as long as I can.”

 

* * *

 

Mikleo remembered the last exchange he had with Rose. Cheekily, she’d told him to make sure she missed him or she’ll haunt him somehow.

“Did you suddenly get over your fear of ghosts?”

Rose had laughed breathily, “Just for you, Meebo, I’d turn into the very things I’m scared of. Say hi to Sorey for me when you meet up with him. And tell him… tell him it’s terrible of him to make ladies wait for him so long.”

Her eyes told him to remember her promise.

 

* * *

 

After the battle with Maotelus, after Sorey’s decision to sleep until the land was purified enough for Maotelus to take over, Mikleo couldn’t say his life had changed much.

Life continued the way it was.  If sometimes, Mikleo forgot there was no Sorey to compare archaeological findings with, or to pass that one tome to after he was finished with it, or if he’d made one too many portions when it was his turn to cook… well, he chalked it up to old habits. Nothing serious. Nothing worth talking about.

There was a lot to do from the get-go. There was having to make sure Camlann was sealed away completely to keep Sorey and Maotelus safe. After that, it was helping Rose settle into the role of the new Shepherd, finding squires, and then purifying the land of malevolence.

Back then, it was easier to think there were better things for him to do than to sit around and contemplate everything that had happened. Those first few days that turned into weeks  and then into months, his friends certainly tried to console him in their own little ways. If not consolation, then they certainly tried to sit him down to talk about it all. He’d just lost his best friend, his grandfather, and watched his mother sacrifice what little life she had to seal off the malevolence leaking out of Camlann. It was heavy stuff – Zaveid’s words.

He couldn’t remember each instance exactly but Mikleo ducked every attempt to get him to sit down and articulate… whatever it was that they wanted him to articulate about the current events. The reasons for not obliging them were aplenty and not completely unwarranted considering the state of the world thereafter. And after some time, they simply stopped.

“ _Mikleo will talk to us when he feels ready.”_ He overheard Lailah tell an exasperated Rose once. _“Let’ us leave him be… for now.”_

 _“And when is that exactly? …Three hundred years from now?”_ Rose had huffed before storming off.

Back then, Mikleo thought that there was nothing to be ready for. He’d come to terms with it all. Heldalf killing their grandfather was devastating, but at the same time, he gained nothing at all from dwelling on it further. There was nothing he could do to change the past. It was the same with his mother. And Sorey…

That night, at Lastonbell, when Mikleo finally looked up after listening to his plans, Sorey was smiling freely. His eyes were clear and bright. It didn’t look like he was agonized at all by his decision. Just like when he up and decided to become the Shepherd without thinking of what was to come next, Sorey was been resolved.

 _“My dream will live on, so long as I don't forget.”_   

There was nothing Mikleo could say against that. Sorey had made a decision. It made sense. And if Sorey thought everything will would be fine – that a centuries-long slumber was something he could deal with – then Mikleo had to be able to okay with it too.

Mikleo decided he had to be. In the end, even if he did talk about it, he knew nothing would really change about his thoughts. He’d found his own answers. As the years passed by, as his experiences accumulated, and the collective feelings from the Age of Chaos dulled with age, Mikleo lived with the knowledge that he wasn’t wrong.

He was fine, anyhow. He was happy. In the years that followed, he didn’t succumb to grief or close himself off to his friends.

They erected a statue of Rose in front of the Ladylake Sanctuary, a majestic thing made out of smooth red – because one of the merchants insisted on the color to match her name – marble. It stood opposite of a statue they’d erected decades ago of Sorey and though Rose and Alisha made sure to remind everyone that Sorey’s feats (and sacrifice) were far greater than anything they were able to do in their lifetime, it was clear which statue was more finely crafted. Even though it was most certainly because very few people even remembered how Sorey looked like exactly – his rise as the Shepherd and the end of Heldalf was so abrupt, people out in the far edges of Rolance and Hyland didn’t even know a new Shepherd had truly emerged by the time Sorey was gone—Mikleo couldn’t help but feel melancholy.

He’d told Sorey that: he’d be forgotten, _abandoned_ by time. And here he was, not even a hundred years in, and already seeing people begin to forget.

He couldn’t blame them, though. Rose had over seventy years of being a Shepherd over Sorey’s mere months.

He walked over to Sorey’s statue, looked upon its face. They got his clothes right – took the designs from the royal tailor Alisha had commissioned for his robes to get it just so – and then there were the gloves and his earrings…

His nose, though. A small mound that was so far from Sorey’s nose that Mikleo couldn’t help but scowl the moment they unveiled it.

 _“Rose, Sorey’s nose wasn’t like that…”_ he’d grumbled, arms crossed in front of the statue.

 _“Oh. Was it?”_ she’d hummed and shifted on her feet as she made a show of surveying it. _“…I thought it was close. You know, cute like a button. It fits the statue, you know?”_

 _“No way.”_  He wasn’t artistic but he had a feeling he could make a better nose for Sorey than the one they had.

 _“Should I change it, Meebo?”_ Edna asked as she came up behind them and reached up to poke the nose with the tip of her umbrella. “ _It’s made out of rock._ ”

 _“Well, Meebo?”_ Rose inched close until their shoulders rubbed against each other. She gave him a nudge.  “ _We could probably use armatization to fix it, right? It’s not an abuse of Shepherd’s powers if her seraph friends agree with it…”_

 _“If you’re fixing it, might as well make it bigger… in other areas as well. If you know what I mean.”_ Zaveid pitched in, winking, until Edna violently pushed him away.

_“Sleazeball.”_

_“O-ouch. Lailah, my dear…?”_

_“I think it’s a great idea… Only Mikleo nose what Sorey’s nose is like, right?”_ Lailah stepped in beside Mikleo, completing the small circle of sorts they’d surrounded him in.  Mikleo groaned at the terrible pun.

 _“So, what do you think? We’re all in… what about you?”_ Rose continued nudging at his shoulder _._

_“I ….”_

 

 

Mikleo reached up to trace the statue’s nose and closed his eyes.  He recalled how he’d looked away and quietly told them there was no need to make a big spectacle over a nose. That it was fine.

They never did change it. Even if every time they – Rose and him – walked by the statue together, they brought up _the nose_ one way or another. When he opened his eyes again, he studied Sorey’s face, as envisioned by the artisan they’d commissioned to make it. The nose had been a subject of contention, but the face itself wasn’t all that close. The eyes were a tad too narrow, the lips too stiff and barely smiling, even the cheeks seemed too gaunt…. Or so Mikleo liked to think.

He could only really think.

_“I think it’s pretty accurate. Even those nose—It’s alright to admit you’ve forgotten how he looks li—oh. I mean! Whoa, you think they’d make me a statue too?”_

Rose’s voice echoed at the back of his mind. He couldn’t remember when exactly she’d told him that. Even if he was a Seraph, seventy years was a long time to sort out. They’d frequented Ladylake enough—to visit Alisha—that it’d be difficult to isolate the moment the exchange happened. But whenever it had, the words gripped tightly at his heart when he recalled them now.  

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

“Rose… “ he whispered. “I don’t think…. I remember his face all that well anymore.”

He smiled fitfully as he continued to stare up at the statue. That fact had been his truth for many years now. But he never said it out loud. He couldn’t say it out loud, or to anyone else. The fact that it had only been decades after Sorey’s departure and his memory of Sorey was already fading was troubling. Even more so because, one day, they were sure to meet again. How much would he remember of Sorey? How much of a welcome could he give Sorey?

It frightened him.

Nowadays, he knew Rose better. If he closed his eyes, he could recall her face clearly, recall the way she laughed, the way her voice grew deeper as she grew older, the way she had to strain her voice to speak louder in the later years….

And even Rose, he knew, he would slowly forget…

Mikleo clutched at his chest and frowned at the sharp pain there, the stinging in his eyes… He began to breathe in slow deliberate gasps as he pushed back the feelings that seemed to well up within him. His hand began to shake and he shut his eyes tightly.

He’d managed this long but somehow, tonight, he felt all those feelings he’d kept in check boiling over.   The feelings of loss, of uncertainty, the knowledge that he had hundreds of years before him, a dark void he couldn’t even begin to fathom.

He missed Rose.

Suddenly, he wished he’d talked to her like she’d wanted him to. The words wouldn’t come out then and he hadn’t felt like he needed to talk to anyone else in the first place. But now, the fact that he hadn’t left him with the bitterness of regret.  There would be no second chance.  Like many before her, Rose was gone, permanently.  She’d go down in history as the squire – later Shepherd – responsible for helping to bring about the end of Heldalf’s Age of Chaos, and she’d be immortalized in books and statues … but books and statues couldn’t talk, couldn’t listen and then jovially offer up comments in response.

He hadn’t learned from Sorey’s loss. Or maybe, Mikleo thought regrettably, he hadn’t let himself _learn_ . The pain from not being able to talk to Sorey again, the things he meant to tell him but brushed away with an _“I’ll tell you later…”_  …  He’d drowned all that out with the mantra that Sorey would be back. One day, hundreds of years later, whenever that was….

He never thought about it, wouldn’t let himself to. And now that he let himself, the full weight of the centuries that lay between him and Sorey felt like a crushing boulder on his chest.

What if that time never came? And just like they’d lost Rose…

Without realizing, he’d leaned against Sorey’s statue, face down and staring at the cobblestone pavement. The tears he’d kept back when Sorey left, when they buried Rose—those began leaking out now, warm, as they left thin trails on his cheeks.

And for while, that was all he did; soundlessly cry against Sorey’s statue.

 

* * *

 

When Mikleo returned to the inn, he found Lailah waiting by the entrance. There was no way to hide the puffiness around his eyes and there must have been no mistaking the fact that he’d been crying. Despite that though, and instead of a feeling of dread, Mikleo felt nothing but relief when Lailah finally noticed him approaching.

When he was within arms’ reach, Lailah reached forward and drew him to her in a hug.

Mikleo didn’t cry, but he didn’t pull away from her hug either.

“How do you do it, Lailah?” he murmured into her shoulder after a while.

“One day at a time, Mikleo.” She whispered softly as she stroked his hair gently.

 

* * *

 

_“Have you ever thought about writing a Celestial Record… you know, like –“ Rose made a gesture with her fingers.  “Yyou know who.”_

_Mikleo never talked about Michael but he was sure he didn’t warrant that kind of skirting around. Even if the man sacrificed Mikleo’s infant self to curse the man who would soon become a Lord of Calamity, Mikleo liked to think he knew him too little to be affected by him._

_“No. Not really,” he answered noncommittally. They were at Pendrago, perusing the cathedral’s old records._

_Rose clasped her hands together at the back of her head and hummed. “To write about your journeys… with Sorey and everyone else…?”_

_He stopped in the middle of pulling out a book from the shelf and gave Rose a look. “I’m not a writer. I’m better off leaving that to professional scribes—And Alisha already commissioned someone to do that.”_

_“That’s a second-hand account though…” she pointed out._

_Mikleo drew his eyebrows together and sighed. He pulled another book from the shelf and pinned the two books he’d gotten under his left arm._

_“I don’t want to write another Celestial Record.”_

 

* * *

 

Mikleo and Sorey grew up on the Celestial Record. They knew it by heart and by the time they were fifteen, had read it cover to cover at least five times.  It fuelled their imaginations so that even if they lived in a small, quiet, and ever unchanging place like Elysia, they felt like they’d traveled the world anyway through the pages of the Celestial Record.

Naturally, he dreamt of one day writing his own record. Even before their grandfather informed Mikleo of the certainty of Sorey leaving Elysia one day, he knew they’d leave Elysia one day on a journey to see the sights and sounds detailed within the Record. And then, because Mikleo thought that he’d always been more articulate and organized than Sorey, _he_ would write their record.

It didn’t work out that way.

He liked to think that learning about his uncle – the Celestial Record’s author— had little effect on him. But the truth was that it was difficult to look at the Celestial Record the same afterwards.

Sorey had passed the Celestial Record onto Rose before the final battle. It was for safekeeping’s sake, Rose told him later. Back then, not one of them could guarantee the four Seraphim’s safe return if they succeeded in their plans and Sorey meant to enter a deep dreamless slumber with Maotelus.

 _“He wanted the book to go with someone who can read it and appreciate it,”_ Rose told him as she held the leather-bound book in her hands out for Mikleo to take. _“I think he would’ve liked to give it to you instead.”_

Even if Mikleo took it, slipped the book into his coat and kept it with him at all times, he couldn’t say he’d read it all that much after.

Looking back, he was probably afraid of the kind of feelings it’d evoke. Not only of Sorey, but of Michael as well.

Mikleo exhaled slowly as he placed the Celestial Record on the desk before him and traced the embossed gold on its cover.

That night, Mikleo ended up spilling some of his concerns to Lailah. He was a mess. He wondered if he even made sense with his ramblings but somehow, Lailah understood.

 _“Have you thought about writing your thoughts so you don’t forget?”_  she’d told him. _“Why don’t you write for yourself? For Sorey. It doesn’t have to be published. Just try it.  … Make it a Try-al…?”_

Mikleo had a stared at Lailah incredulously for that pun. Though, after a moment’s pause, he found that he didn’t mind the suggestion at all.

_“I… I guess I can.”_

Mikleo knew the Celestial Record by heart. Years ago, he could quote phrases from it from the top of his head. Sorey could too and together they kept each other’s memory of the Record alive.

As he turned to the first page and read its opening verses, it struck Mikleo how _new_ the passage seemed. It’d been too long since he’d read it last.

Some passages he remembered – especially the ones about the places they’d seen in their travels – but others made him feel like he was reading them for the first time. As he read even further, he thought he could now recognize the author’s distinct writing style—how it was simple and straightforward most of the time but made an effort to describe certain things with elegant accuracy.  Michael had meant to leave his readers with the same wonder he felt being at those places. Mikleo and Sorey had certainly felt that wonder back then but now Mikleo was left with something else.

A different look at his uncle. And the feeling that he’d been wrong all this time.

He rubbed at his temples and laughed quietly in spite of himself.

 _I want to write_ , he thought to himself and for the first time in many years, he thought he wanted to write an account that was as detailed and accurate as the ones from the Celestial Record.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Mikleo paused to tuck his hair behind his ears before looking back up to the mural in front of him. He tried to make sense of its pattern, imagined each section divided by squares, before turning his attention back to the book he held in one hand and the unfinished sketch therein.

“Just a little bit…” he muttered as he completed jotting down the encryption around the mural in paper. “There.” He studied his handiwork for a moment before turning beside him.  “What do you think?”  

The person beside him turned, green eyes blinking before finally settling on the hand-drawn picture Mikleo held. “Oh…” He turned to look back to the mural, then to the drawing, and back again. He let out a little awed sound. “It’s perfect.”

Mikleo frowned studying both his work and the mural. “’ _Fine’_ should be enough. It’s a ways off from perfect.”

His companion shook his head. “No, not at all. I think it’s perfect. You’re a great artist, Mikleo.”

Mikleo sighed before closing his book and tucking it into his bag. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere with me, Lance.”

“I don’t mean to go anywhere. It’s the truth.” Lance gave him a toothy green.

“You keep believing that—“ Mikleo paused to look around. “— Let’s head over there. I think I saw another mural over there. I want to record that too.”

“Gotcha,” in a swoosh of Shepherd’s robes, Lance followed, falling into step beside him in matter of moments. Mikleo couldn’t help but notice how those green eyes lingered on him before focusing straight ahead.

The next mural was in a worse state than the one before it. The roof had collapsed in this room, taking part of the mural with it. From the moss growing around it, it looked like water occasionally found its way to it too. Most of the mural itself was legible but, speaking from experience, he doubted it’d last another fifty years like this. It was all the more reason for him to record it.

“It’s Post-Asgardian –  like the one before –  but I’ve seen structures from before the Asgardian era hold up better than this.” Mikleo noted as he pulled his book out again and turned to a blank page. “It’s a pity.”

“What is it about this time?” Lance asked as he came up beside him.

“The Shepherd,” he gestured towards a carving of man holding up a sword. “Here’s the Shepherd’s insignia as well…”

“ _Oh._ So that sword and this—“ the human unsheathed his ornamental sword. “It’s the same?”

“No.—“ if the sword in that mural had survived and remained in the hands of Shepherds  - in Lailah’s care – then it was more likely than not that it was with Sorey. “That sword was forged several hundreds of years ago. Strictly post-Age of Chaos.”

“Oh… but it’s still storied, right?”

Mikleo shrugged. “I suppose so.”

He heard Lance exhale before bursting out: “It’s so amazing being a part of history like this!”  

When Mikleo turned, he saw the young Shepherd grinning at him, green eyes shining. He asked anyway, “You think so?”

“I know so!”

“Even if you have to sit around and wait for me to put these things to paper?”

Lance looked surprised before shyly turning away. “It’s for history and… it’s not completely unpleasant… watching you draw.”

“Oh…”

Lance jumped up. “I mean! It’s a nice break… from fighting hellions. Whew—just relaxing is nice too!”

“If you say so,” Mikleo turned back to his drawing. “I’ll make it up to you for this detour,” he said quietly after a while.

“It’s alright. It’s…. to commit ruins like this to memory for future generations, right?”

Mikleo paused and gave Lance a little smile. “Something like that…”  

“Then I consider it a part of the Shepherd’s job! … I’d like a strawberry parfait, please.”

“I see your ulterior motives already…”

“Well, you said you’d make up to me! I’m just suggesting how you’d best make up…”

“I’ll be sure to remember then…”

Several hundred years ago, Mikleo took up drawing. He hadn’t been much of an artist before that, but the need for him to be able to put into paper the intricate murals became apparent when a landslide heavily damaged a set of ruins south of Pendrago.  He’d recorded that set of ruins before, in writing that was, and expanded on what had been on it in the Celestial Records, but he’d only recorded some of the inscriptions. When he came back to survey the damage, he found the ruins’ set piece – a ten foot long wall with a pictorial depiction of several Shepherds’ accomplishment carved on solid rock – crushed into pieces.

When he first saw that wall, the first thing on his mind had been that he‘d wanted Sorey to see it, and so it was hugely disappointing to see it gone. Since then, Mikleo had made it a habit to try to record as many of those murals as he could – not all of them had spells left by their ancestors to preserve the place.

And so, that was why he was here. They unearthed these ruins recently – several months ago, in fact – but much of the place looked like it could crumble any moment. It was a wonder the whole thing didn’t collapse entirely the moment the excavators began digging to set up a building’s foundation.

“They’ll condemn these ruins anyway after picking out choice pieces to save…” Mikleo murmured as he added the finishing touches to his drawing. “Though, I guess it wouldn’t be so bad if they save this.”  He placed a hand on the area depicting the Shepherd, his mind wandering back to Sorey.  “C’mon, Lance. Let’s go--… _oh_.”

Lance had fallen asleep, using a nearby rock as his pillow.

“I should’ve told him to stay up.”  He smiled at the sight of the Shepherd sleeping peacefully before kneeling down and carefully lifting the boy on his back.  “Don’t blame me if you wake up eating my hair,” he muttered as he moved his ponytail away from Lance’s face.

The walk back to their camp was uneventful, too uneventful even. At least, on the way to the heart of the ruins earlier, Lance had provided distraction in the form of questions about Mikleo’s guesses about the place’s intended use. Mikleo had only been too happy to provide them; having someone willing to listen and genuinely interested in history was always nice. Of the Shepherds active currently, he got along best with Lance. Of course, that probably had to do with Lance being eager to accompany him to ruins – especially the ones filled with residue malevolence, if not outright nests of hellions – too. Seraphim, no matter how powerful, were still vulnerable to malevolence.

Mikleo couldn’t afford to fall to it, not when there was someone waiting for him.

And it was close, he knew. Sorey would soon awaken along with Maotelus.

There was evidence of Maotelus slowly, but surely, returning to power. His returning influence on the land, some scholars hypothesized, gave rise to more and more children being born with the power to perceive Seraphim for example. Lance was living proof too. Currently, there were five active Shepherds, of which Lance was the third. Occurrence of hellions was an all-time low as well and the land was as prosperous as ever.  

Soon. The word filled Mikleo with both anticipation and… dread.

He had mountains of journals – records of ruins long gone –  by now. He’d welcome Sorey with them and he knew without a shadow of doubt that Sorey would appreciate them. He remembered that of Sorey at least. But he worried… much had changed since the last time they were together.

Sometimes, when Mikleo was being honest to himself, he worried that he’d changed too much and didn’t care for Sorey anymore. That even if he’d kept himself anticipating Sorey’s return, once his old friend was finally in front of him, he’d feel nothing. There’d be none of the deep friendship they had, the bond they used to share.

And that seemed like a cruel thing to subject Sorey to.

“ _Meebleo_ …. _blergh bleh_ —“

Mikleo laughed at the unmistakeable sound of Lance trying to spit out hair from his mouth. 

“Good evening to you too, Lance.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?—I mean—“ He felt Lance bury his face into his shoulder. “You didn’t have to…. Carry me.”

“Oh. Right. So I should put you down now…?”

“No!—I mean! … “ The Shepherd’s voice grew quieter. Without looking, Mikleo knew he must be beet red.  “I could’ve walked…. P-please put me down.”

“Alright.” Carefully, Mikleo set him down and, just as he thought he would be, saw that Lance was indeed a blushing mess.  He immediately assumed that was because of Lance was embarrassed about being treated like a little kid and carried around by him. He’d always been conscious about his age, being one of the younger Shepherds.

“Thanks for carrying me.” Lance said after a while – a while of banishing the blush from his face and straightening his Shepherd robes.

“It’s nothing. I don’t mind at all.” Mikleo grinned. “Unless you wanted me to leave you there.”

“Waking up was an option!”

“Not when you’re such a sleepyhead.”  Lance was the type to take a while to wake up – requesting for five minutes reprieve whenever they roused him. It wasn’t that bad but Mikleo – like everyone else- eventually made a habit of occasionally teasing him about it.

“I could’ve woken up!” Lance crossed his arms across his chest. “I really would’ve…. I wouldn’t have wanted to make you wait…”

“If you say so,” Mikleo hummed. Lance frowned at him but said nothing as he fell into step beside Mikleo.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Lance said some time later.

“Huh?”

“Why is it so important for you to record these ruins?” Lance stopped walking before continuing to ask. “If it’s saving it for future generations, there’s the Imperial Historical Institute for that… right? They had people surveying these ruins too.”

Mikleo slowed to a stop himself. He knew the answer, of course. He never forgot the reason he began keeping records of, not only ruins, but of his own travels. He looked at Lance and saw the curiosity written all over that face, the intensity in those green eyes.

Hundreds of years later, Sorey was all but forgotten in the blur of Shepherds that followed. They remembered his feats, defeating a dragon and Heldalf with then Squire Rose but they’d mostly forgotten that he was still alive, his senses cut off from the world, and asleep with Maotelus.

Sometimes, on moments of deep doubt, even Mikleo himself wondered if he wasn’t just lying to himself.

He shook that thought off.

“It’s for a friend…. An old friend.”

“A Seraph like you, Mikleo…?”

“How much do you know about the Age of Chaos, Lance?”

Lance gave him a confused look. He knew a lot – enough to completely fall all over himself when he first met Mikleo. Mikleo remembered that moment well.  “That was the time you became a Sub-Lord with Shepherd Sorey and Shepherd Rose… and then you defeated the Lord of Calamity, Heldalf, together with them.” Lance’s voice grew apprehensive when he continued, “That was… almost eight hundred years ago.”

“That’s right.” Getting the words out after that was difficult. He opened his mouth and then closed it again, deciding on a different thing to say altogether. Finally he settled with: “…I’ll tell you some other time.”

It took a whole second for Lance to realize Mikleo had dodged his question. “That’s no fair.”

“If you’re a good boy, I might tell you sooner.” Mikleo smirked back at Lance before walking again,  his cape swirling with flourish behind him.

“Will you really?” The seriousness in Lance voice caught Mikleo off guard. When he tilted his head to turn to Lance, he saw the Shepherd with a deep frown, green eyes intensely fixed on him.

Mikleo sighed. “I promise.” He paused a moment to let those words sink in. “ Now come on, we have to get back to Pendrago first thing tomorrow so we should sleep as soon as we get to camp.”

Lance broke into a sprint to fall back beside Mikleo but didn’t say anything. He kept quiet until they reached camp, even.  By morning though, he was back to his usual jovial self so Mikleo allowed himself to think little of it.

If he could, he would’ve forgotten about the episode entirely. But he couldn’t forget the way those green eyes had looked at him, the intensity in them. At the back of his mind, he thought they looked familiar.

The kind of familiar that made his heart clench.

 

* * *

 

He caught himself watching Lance more closely one day after their trip. He was subtle about it, he liked to think, except for the moment he caught himself staring too long at Lance –  and his eyes to be more specific – when he was sure Lance was too occupied to notice.

It was unsettling, especially when he wasn’t sure why he was suddenly drawn to him. He’d known the younger Shepherd for a little over five years now and in all that time, Mikleo couldn’t recall having noticed anything strange with him.  As he apparently did now.

If anything, Lance was an ideal Shepherd. He was naïve at times and he got starry-eyed around him and Lailah more often than not but he could also be serious. And if the need arose, Mikleo was confident he was completely capable of making hard choices. Thankfully, and  given the peace time their continent was currently enjoying, Lance – or any of the other Shepherds currently serving  – hadn’t had to make any difficult choices yet.

“You look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders, Mikleo.” The soft hand on his shoulder had him jumping up a little in surprise.

“Lailah…” He frowned as he turned and found the Fire Seraph smiling gently at him.

“Care to share your thoughts?”

“It’s nothing just….” Mikleo looked down. He wasn’t sure how to describe his observations—he wasn’t sure what he was observing, even. “Lance looks different lately.”

“Oh….?” Lailah made a little humming sound as she turned to watch Lance as well. The Shepherd was in the middle of a practice match with one of the other Shepherds, Tortimer. “I see nothing different…. “

“Figures…. Maybe I’m just thinking too hard.”

“You _do_ tend to do that.”

Mikleo frowned before sighing exasperatedly. “I guess I do,” he admitted.

He continued watching Lance then, following his flow of movements as he danced around and parried Tortimer’s lance. Mikleo’s eyebrows twitched when he noticed an opening in Lance’s stance and wasn’t surprised when the Shepherd found himself eating dirt the next moment.

“He really needs to work on that. Ayana tripped him up by attacking in the same way,” Mikleo noted as he crossed his arms above his chest in displeasure.

“You watch him closely, don’t you?”

Mikleo startled and then blushed when he realized Lailah hadn’t left at all. He looked away. “Only because I’ve seen him fight enough to know his tendencies.” Of all the Shepherds, he was with Lance the most, after all. He was his ‘Designated Ruins Companion’, as Edna put it when they ran across her in one of their ruins trek.

Lailah was suspiciously silent after that. It made Mikleo pause and turn to her questioningly. He saw her looking thoughtful, staring straight ahead. Mikleo couldn’t be sure if she was looking at Lance too.

“Lailah?”

“Clearly, you have to tell him about his _Lance_ weakness!” Lailah blurt out with a wide smile. She batted her eyes innocently at him.

Mikleo groaned, especially when he looked back at Lance and truly noticed the weapon he was up against. He shook his head. The delay must’ve been because she was thinking up that pun.

“I’ll tell him, all right.”

 

* * *

 

Before long, Mikleo learned to catch himself before he stared at Lance too long. And so, despite whatever it was that drew Mikleo’s eyes to Lance, life slowly settled back into normalcy.  Or as normal as life could be for a Shepherd and his Sub Lord.

One winter evening found the two of them in Mikleo’s study back at Elysia. Mikleo was long overdue a visit to his hometown and seeing as it was near Ladylake, he requested they stop by the old Seraphim village.

Elysia hadn’t changed much in the centuries. Decades after Heldalf’s defeat, they decided to put up a statue in Sorey’s memory and had it stand over the cliff so that it made for a dramatic silhouette at dawn. But aside from that, walking into Elysia was like walking back into the past. It always made Mikleo feel a bit self-conscious – he’d changed somewhat; had evolved his fashion throughout the years, started growing his hair longer…

Sometimes, he thought, Elysia was a picture of where Sorey would be at when he awakened. He was someone from the past. What would he think of Mikleo now?

“My house is this way,” he said, leading them towards Zenrus’ old house. Many years ago, they all decided he should have the place and, in the end, it turned out to be the perfect place to keep the books he’d accumulated throughout the years.

They kept Sorey’s house untouched, except for the occasional cleaning to prevent dust from caking over his personal effects. Like Mikleo, it waited for Sorey’s return.

As Lailah and Tortimer began bustling around the kitchen to produce dinner, Mikleo and Lance busied themselves in his study. That was when Lance stumbled upon his old drawings. The Shepherd had been curious, looking over the carefully ordered books on one of the shelves excitedly and, occasionally, pulling them from the shelf to look over its contents. Mikleo stepped out for a moment, to speak with Lailah and Tortimer, and when he returned, Lance was on the floor lining up the many pictures of Sorey he’d drawn in an attempt put his face down on paper before he forgot completely.

No one picture was exactly the same, despite clearly being of one person. Each one had subtly different eyes, noses, ears and mouths.  If it weren’t for the mortification Mikleo felt for Lance finding them, he would’ve laughed at how terrible some of those pictures had come out.  

He nearly dropped the tray of warm tea he held as he marched towards him.

“Those are—“

“They’re the same person… “ Lance noted quietly and those sharp green eyes were onto him instantly, wide and inquisitive. “Is he your Seraphim friend…?”

Mikleo’s breath caught in his throat and he moved to place the tray on his desk before leaning against one of the shelves.

He sighed.

“He’s not… not Seraphim.”

“Oh…” Lance looked downcast and suddenly, Mikleo wanted to reach out and console him. He didn’t, because he wasn’t exactly sure what got Lance disappointed suddenly.

“He’s…” Mikleo started instead.

“Mikleo—“ But Lance had him interrupted. The Shepherd stood up and Mikleo felt like he was being pinned to the wall by those green eyes. He looked away. “… can you draw me too?”

Mikleo turned slowly and gave Lance a questioning look. “Draw you…?”

Lance nodded once. “I…  please!”

“What’s gotten into you?” Mikleo asked once he found his voice.

“Just… please.” Lance hung his head.

Mikleo sighed again and gestured towards an empty chair. “Then sit down. It’ll take a while.”

The light returned to Lance’s eyes — though there was still a trace of _something_ not entirely happy in them. Mikleo took the open book he’d left on his desk and opened to an empty page before settling into a chair himself.

He started with the outline of Lance’s face and body, before filling in the lines—adding the details of his clothes, the way his shoulders were ever so slightly stiff…  He saved the face for last, leaving guiding lines there instead.

“Don’t move,” Mikleo ordered when Lance squirmed. He could probably draw Lance from memory by now – he knew the young Shepherd long enough for that—but he decided to make things a little difficult for Lance anyway.  It was his request, after all, and Mikleo was doing him a favour. A little effort from his part didn’t hurt.

He’d drawn Sorey from memory, filling in the blanks as the years went by by testing out which features worked best on Sorey’s face. He was still a long way to completely recalling Sorey’s face but his reason for starting was successful anyway: he’d never completely forgotten it either.

Carefully, Mikleo drew the thin scar that run across Lance’s right cheek and then paused—

Lance lips were pursed together, giving his face an altogether sour look.

“Do you really want me to draw you frowning?”

Lance stiffened. “I- I’m sorry!” he took a deep breath and, slowly, eased back to his original position (as much as he could, anyway). This time, he offered a little smile. It looked apprehensive but it was a definite improvement from his old expression.

Mikleo drew his lips lightly then, gave it a slight curve and added his own flair by recalling Lance’s normal smile. The determined one. Mikleo liked that smile.

And then the eyes. For the first time in weeks, Mikleo let himself look straight into those green eyes. And just like that, he felt the familiar clench in his heart.

He blinked- reminding himself not to stare too long before hunching and returning to his drawing.

Lance’s eyes were, probably, his best asset. Wide, clear green eyes. They expressed his emotions clearly – the good, the bad… Yes, that was it, Mikleo realized. They were what drew him to Lance, because they were…

Mikleo let out a little gasp as he finished drawing those eyes.

Familiar.

His heart stopped. “Sorey…” he murmured.

“Is it done…?”

Mikleo looked up in confusion and found Lance staring down at him, subjecting him to those familiar green eyes fully. He felt like they were stripping him bare, leaving his thoughts out for Lance to see.  He looked away and nodded. “…Yes.”

He showed the drawing to Lance and carefully watched his face as he looked it over.

Sorey’s eyes. Lance’s eyes were just like Sorey’s. He’d forgotten but a part of him remembered – that’s why he was drawn to Lance. And it didn’t help that, sometimes…. Lance reminded him of Sorey.

He pressed his lips together, unsure of how to react to this revelation.

“It really looks like me.” Lance whispered in awe. Mikleo thought he didn’t sound too happy about it. Not like the many times after he’d shown him his drawings. Even if he shot down Lance’s talk of perfection whenever it happened, he couldn’t deny he liked hearing Lance’s guileless praise.  

He heard Lance take a sharp breath, the sound of rustling paper, and then suddenly something warm and moist was pressed against his lips. It took him by complete surprise.

“I like you,” Lance murmured as he drew away. “I’m sorry…  I just… I know I’m far too young for you. That I’m just … “ He sighed, fumbled with the hem of his robes. “…human. But I can’t… I can’t help it.”

Mikleo took a slow deep breath. His heart was thundering in his ears and his cheeks were burning.

“I—“

_Like you._

The words jumped out of his mind, white words on black. But somehow, it didn’t make him feel any better, and he kept his mouth tightly shut for fear of saying something he would regret.

He liked Lance too, no doubt about it. Liked how he enjoyed exploring ruins with him. Liked how he could actually carry a conversation about those ruins and other historical facts, even argue with him when he was feeling cheeky. His smile. His _eyes_.

The blend of naïveté and realism. His determination.

Lance looked very little like Sorey, with his sandy blond hair and sharper cheeks—Mikleo could find many differences now that he thought about it. But, at the same time….

“I… I have to go.” Mikleo said before hastily getting up and hurrying out of the room.

He didn’t stop walking until he was standing beside Sorey’s statue, breathing shallowly, and on the verge of tears.

He held a hand to his chest in an attempt to calm his heart.

What was that feeling?

He turned to the statue Sorey’s face, the tiny smile of determination carved onto the smooth rock.

There was no way. Eight hundred years, at least; that was how long since he’d last seen Sorey, last heard him. His memory of Sorey – it wasn’t like it used to be. He could barely remember the timbre of his voice. There were things he _knew_ of Sorey, but the feelings he’d had in their time together were all but muted.

There was no way.

But there was one thing he knew.

“I want to break my pact, Lailah.” Mikleo declared quietly. When he returned to his house that evening, dinner had long been had and the Fire Seraph stood, waiting for him in the foyer.  Lance was nowhere to be seen and Mikleo didn’t have the courage to ask for the young Shepherd’s whereabouts.

“Oh, Mikleo…” Lailah lifted a hand to her mouth to express her surprise before sighing. “Will you tell me what happened?”  She whispered quietly as came close, her eyes full of concern.

Mikleo sighed heavily and, with one last look at the hallway that lead to the sleeping quarters, gestured for Lailah to follow him outside.

“Lance kissed me,” he admitted, at length, hugging himself. The tumultuous feelings he’d felt shortly after crept back but he staunchly pushed them away. “I… I think I liked him back. But…”

“It’s a lot more complicated than that. Isn’t it?” Lailah whispered.

Mikleo nodded. “I don’t know…. I don’t know what to think, Lailah. I just know I can’t stay here. That it isn’t right…. That…”

He stiffened at that moment, a thought crossing his mind suddenly. He thought about not saying it. If he said it, it felt like that truth would connect would something else and reveal something else that he wasn’t ready to face just yet.

He swallowed and closed his eyes. “He reminds me of Sorey. “ He heard himself mentally excusing himself then – how he’d never noticed, or probably refused to notice all this time. The kiss was like a lightning bolt, sparking him to realize all that at once.

He waited for Lailah to piece two and two together – to voice the things he didn’t want to say – but the Fire Seraph just placed a hand on his shoulder and gently squeezed.

“Take your time then, Mikleo. I’ll explain things to them, so there’s no need to worry,” she assured him.

“Lailah…” Mikleo felt like he could cry then and there. He hugged her tightly.

“All that I ask is that you return, Mikleo. Once you’ve settled your feelings,” Lailah whispered as she stroke his back. “Please be kind to Lance.”

_Don’t let him succumb to malevolence from this._ Lailah left those words out but Mikleo heard them anyway. He nodded as he pulled away and looked seriously to Lailah.

“I promise.”

 

* * *

 

For days and weeks, Mikleo traveled on his own with no set destination. He went from ruin to ruin, revisiting old pathways and searching for new previously undiscovered routes within them. The days bled together and there were even days when Mikleo didn’t even talk, cut off from civilization as he was. It wasn’t the first time he’d travelled on his own and lived and breathed nothing but ruins and each time he realized just why they said Seraphim perceived time differently from humans. If he let himself, he knew a year or two could easily pass by – maybe even decades – and he wouldn’t even realize until he stopped to find out how much time exactly had passed.

Sometimes, that frightened him a bit, even if that sentiment was probably a human one.

He would’ve continued for several months more, just aimlessly traveling and staunchly avoiding any thoughts that led back to Lance, _to Sorey_ , if he could. Unfortunately for him, a familiar face – and shirtless chest – caught him on his way to Zaphgott Moor.

“Fancy meeting you here, Mickey,” Zaveid drawled as he draped his arms around him and drew him close. Mikleo groaned and pushed him away, before frowning.

“What’s with that look? Not happy to see the great Zaveid?”

He crossed his arms across his chest and shook his head. “Can’t say I am,” he intoned.

“Ouch. That hurt.” Zaveid made a scene of clutching at his hat and hiding his face behind it.

Unimpressed, Mikleo just continued walking forward. “If that’s all, I’m heading out—“

“Mind if I tag along?”

Mikleo sighed, but kept a neutral face. He doubted this was a chance meeting. “If I say no, you’d still tag along, won’t you?”

Zaveid hummed. “Let me think—“

“As if you actually do…”

“—Yeah. I think I’d tag along anyway. You know, gotta catch up and stuff. Hear news about my sweeties, Lailah and Edna…”

Zaveid reached out again to drape his arms across Mikleo’s shoulders. This time, he just sighed and let the touchy feely Seraph have his way.

“I don’t actually have any news about them.” It’d been months since he last saw them. He wasn’t even sure how long exactly.  “You probably have more news on them than me, even.” He stated plainly, giving Zaveid a scrutinizing look.

“Now why would you think that?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

Zaveid grinned a little. And then he let Mikleo go, placing his hands on his hips instead and then shrugging. “Zaveid doesn’t know anything. I swear this on my gentleman’s honor.”

Mikleo snorted.”That just tells me you’re lying.”

Zaveid just grinned and slapped him on his back then began walking ahead. “I wouldn’t dream of lying to you, Mikboy.”

Mikleo rolled his eyes but let the comment slide. In the end, just like Zaveid wouldn’t have been able to shake off his suspicions, he doubted he’d be able to pry the truth out of Mikleo. So he let Zaveid tag along.

 

* * *

 

“So anything new with our buddy, Sorey?”

They were following a dark path way with Mikleo in the lead, holding out his staff for light, when Zaveid sprung that question on him. He froze immediately and then groaned, sure Zaveid saw that.

He took a deep breath, narrowing his eyes as he threw a question back at Zaveid.  “If Maotelus has awakened, you’d know, won’t you?”

“Heh. You got me there.”

Mikleo blinked, fully turning to Zaveid suddenly. “You really would, huh?”

“Well, yeah. I’m a Wind Seraph—“ Zaveid gestured his hand as he explained. “The first thing that’s going to change is the wind. It’s going to be… prickly… is the word for it, I guess. I suppose you wouldn’t know since you were born after Maotelus disappeared and all.”

“Yeah. I guess…. “

“As a Sub Lord, you should be able to feel it though.”

Mikleo looked away.

“But I guess you’re _not_ a Sub Lord at the moment.”

“You do know more.” Mikleo grumbled.

Zaveid shrugged and leaned on the wall. “Just that you up and left Lailah high and dry back at Elysia. Didn’t bother to ask anything after that. You can thank my manly instincts for that.”

“Manly instincts, my ass.”

“Anyway, figured I’d catch up with you, anyway. Find out from my man what led him to go on an unplanned vacation.”  He winked at Mikleo. “Offer some _sagely_ advice.”

“Please.” Mikleo had to shake his head.

“But seriously. Try me, Mikboy. Open up your hear—“

“It’s nothing serious,” Mikleo cut him off. He was lying but saying it out loud that way almost made it seem real. “I just need some time off to sort it out…. I told Lailah I’d be back.”

“Is it loooove issues?”  Zaveid came up to Mikleo to nudge at his shoulder.

“Wh- what…   _No!”_

“Whoa. Seriously? That’s an even more violent reaction than usual…  Hit the nail in the head, didn’t I?” Zaveid looked surprised.

“ _No.”_

“Hey, hey, there’s nothing wrong with fallin’ in love. You’re what? A perfectly healthy nine hundred year old Seraph… that’s like, puberty in Seraphim years.”

“I said _no._ For the last time … It’s not like that.” Mikleo sighed and turned his back on Zaveid.  “I’m not in love, or anything,” he mumbled. “There’s no way this is something like that.”

“Oh-ho-ho. The plot thickens.”

“Just leave me alone, I don’t want to talk about it.”  Mikleo said weakly.

“I’ve got a problem with that. When guys and girls say it’s something they don’t wanna talk about—that’s usually when you gotta crack ‘em open and force yourself in.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s wrong.”

“Says who, huh?” Zaveid shifted his weight from one foot to the other and rested a hand on his hips. “Anyway, it’s up to you if you wanna lay it on me. But all I’m saying is that this is man-o-man time. Between you and me—not gonna share it to the ladies. You don’t even have to let me in on all the details. Ask me vague questions, Big Bro Zaveid will provide whole answers.”

“You suck at this.”  Mikleo said, shaking his head.

“Sure, go on, make fun of the person trying to help you…”

“I never asked you for it in the first place,” he said with a frown before continuing down the path in silence.

 

* * *

 

That was supposed to be the end of it. The silence, it turned out, was worse than hearing Zaveid try to get him to talk about the matter.  Especially when his mind remembered the things he was running away from. It honestly made him feel like letting the matter lie for years, until he and everyone else involved, forgot about it.

But he knew more than anyone, how that wouldn’t be fair at all.

_“There’s nothing wrong with talking about things—even small things like this…”_

Mikleo sighed at himself. “I know, I know,” he muttered.

He looked up then to where Zaveid was lounging around against the wall, beside their campfire. With a deep breath, he stood from his spot and walked over to Mikleo.

“I have a feeling I’ll regret this… but. “ Another deep breath. “What happens when you… _like_ … someone you haven’t seen in a while. What’s that supposed to be?”

Zaveid had his hat cover his face and when, after a moment, he didn’t respond or even stir, Mikleo groaned. It figured that Zaveid would be asleep when he finally decided to talk.

“This is stupid,” he grumbled before turning on his heels to walk back to his spot.

“It doesn’t change anything. You still like that person.”

Mikleo spun around. Zaveid hadn’t stirred at all, but there was no doubt he’d spoken.

“How can you like someone you don’t know?”

That’s when Zaveid sat up and removed his hat from his face so he could look at Mikleo. “Now I know you really have no idea about love.”

“So what if I don’t?”

“When you like someone—just see someone and bam,” he made a shooting gesture with his hand. “Think, _man_ , that lady’s hot. You don’t know anything about them but that’s ‘liking’ them all right. It’s as simple as that.”

Mikleo looked away. “What if I’m not sure I’m remembering things right? What if … it’s just an idea I like? That’s not right… right?”

Zaveid shook his head. “Mikleo, my man. That’s overthinking it. That doesn’t change anything—what you feel is what you feel. Ain’t anything _wrong_ with _that_ . And if you’re worried about _idealizing_ them… then that’s when you just gotta learn more.” He grinned. “And I sure as hell know you damn well can do that.”

Mikleo froze when Zaveid gave him that knowing look. “It’s not Lance,” he spluttered defensively.

“ _Oh_ , I knew that.”

Mikleo turned beet red instantly and glared at his side. He felt like he’d been tricked into giving everything away.

“No offense, Mickey, but I’ve known _that_ for a good few hundred years now so it’s _not exactly_ a secret.”

“So now you know it’s _him_ , you still think it’s okay?” Mikleo muttered in an irritated tone.

“Yeah. Nothing wrong with that.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Liking someone doesn’t automatically mean you’ll be in a relationship with them. So, yeah, it doesn’t _really_ matter.”

Mikleo stopped. Somehow, the thought of Sorey not reciprocating had never crossed his mind. But now that it had…  Why did it feel strange? Almost like a tiny twinge…

He was jolted back to his senses by Zaveid slapping him in the back again. “That’s really all there is it to it. You’re free to love anyone, just about _anyone_ out there regardless of reason. You can like them for how their farts smell, who cares? And you know why that is? Because they damned well don’t have to love you back.”

Mikleo’s shoulders slumped. Zaveid’s words made perfect sense. It was strangely humbling.

“But you know what? I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that loving back bit.” Zaveid gave him one last pat in the back before walking off.

“This is where I get off, Mikboy. Now don’t forget to let Lance down gently. Kissing you took a lot of courage. Not sure I’d been able to pull that off if I was in his shoes, personally.” Zaveid turned back to give Mikleo a wink. “But that’s probably coz he doesn’t know about Sorey, huh?”

“Wait…”

But Zaveid didn’t stop.

 

* * *

 

It took a whole week before Mikleo was back at Pendrago. Admittedly, he dawdled a little, finishing up his look over of a ruin before beginning the journey back home.

And when he did, Lance was there to meet him. The first thing the Shepherd did was bow his head down repeatedly in apology.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Mikleo!”

Mikleo couldn’t help but smile at the picture Lance made and he answered his apology by giving him a pat in the head.

“If anyone should be apologizing, it’s me.”

Lance shook his head. “No, I-“

Mikleo shook his head. “No.  No more apologies.”

“But I…”

“I’ll tell you all about my friend. About Sorey.”

Those green eyes widened.

 

* * *

 

They found an unused room in the Sanctuary and settled there. Mikleo began haltingly, recalling the words he’d practiced in his head on his way back to Pendrago. He started with how the two of them began their journey many, many years ago. What it was like being a Shepherd back then. He talked about what Sorey was like – how he remembered him, anyway – and then…

“Sorey’s still alive. He chose to sleep until Maotelus’ natural purification took over. He knew that we couldn’t afford going without a Shepherd at any given time and so, by sleeping with Maotelus... if ever a person with a resonance high enough to become Shepherd couldn’t be found, a Squire could easily take up the mantle and be the Shepherd themselves. Through Sorey’s power.”

Lance looked confused. He hung his head down and muttered, “I don’t understand how this all relates to me…”

“You reminded me of him,” Mikleo said softly. He took a deep breath before he continued. “That’s probably why I…  was favouring you over the other Shepherds. And I think… I think I confused you. I confused myself too.”

“But I…. I love Sorey. I’ve always loved him, I think. And that’s why… even if I like you – and I like you a lot, Lance -- …. We can’t continue like this.”

Lance opened his mouth as if to protest that. But then he hung his head and looked down wordlessly.

“I’m sorry.”  Mikleo whispered.

The Shepherd shook his head. “ _Mm_ … _mm_... I’m glad. I’m glad that you told me, Mikleo. I was worried that I’d never see you again. I’m just human after all. You could…. You could be gone for the rest of my life, and it’d just be a blink of an eye for you.” He finally lifted his head and offered Mikleo a weak smile. “I’ll be fine…. I think. A Shepherd has to weather trials, right?”

“Yeah.” Mikleo mirrored his smile.

“… When do you think Sorey will return?”

“To be honest…. I don’t know. It could be tomorrow, or a hundred years from now, even more.”

“And you’re okay with that…?”

Mikleo thought for a while. Sometimes, he was honestly more afraid of the day Sorey did come back. Now he had one more thing to compound to that worry. But somehow, right then and there, he had an answer that wasn’t weighed down by any doubt.

“Yeah… I have to be. He’ll want to see all the ruins of the world and, of course, I have to be there with him.”


	3. Chapter 3

It was at mid-day that Lailah felt it; power carried by blowing wind, the feeling of something shifting. It would’ve been easy to disregard, if not for the niggling feeling of familiarity. And then it clicked, so suddenly that she let out a loud gasp: “ _Oh.”_

Maotelus had awoken and the wind carried the news with it.

This was what they’d been waiting for. For hundreds of years. But Lailah couldn’t feel jubilant just yet because she knew just what the news meant. If Maotelus had awoken then so too would Sorey. And Mikleo…

She sighed and paced around the room.

Almost a fortnight ago, Mikleo had gone on a journey to revisit all the ruins of Glenwood. It was a practice he undertook every thirty years or so in a bid to preserve them, and nothing new. But Mikleo tended to be completely unreachable when he was in one of these journeys, too engrossed as he was in noting any changes in the ruins he visited.

She sighed again. “Of all the times…”

“Figures Meebo would be gone when it actually happened,” Edna noted as she entered the room and made herself comfortable on one of the chairs.

“It’s not like Mikboy could’ve known. _I_ didn’t know,” Zaveid followed in shortly. “So what do we do now? Can’t possibly keep Lord Maotelus waiting, can we?”

“No, we can’t…  and if Sorey has awoken…  it’s best that we’re there,” She sighed again. “If Sorey wandered outside on his own, he might be in for a shock…”

“Oh yeah. _Definitely_ ,” Zaveid agreed. The world had changed far too much for it to resembled the world Sorey left.  “So our plan’s to take Sorey back home and then…. Wait for Mikboy?”

Lailah nodded. “I think that’s our best plan yet. I just wish there was a way for us to call Mikleo back here…”

“He’ll just have to deal with it and cry when he returns,” Edna jumped off her chair and rested her umbrella on her shoulder. “His fault for his bad timing.”

“Ouch. But, well—that’s life for you.  Sorry, Mickey…”

Lailah giggled. She had a feeling Mikleo would be crying no matter what, but whether it was from happiness or disappointment for not being there at the start remained to be seen….

 

* * *

 

The Shepherds were rightfully cowed, even with most of Maotelus’ figure hidden behind the shadows his presence was formidable, and his voice commanding. They stood at the back, awestruck. It was Lailah who stepped forward, bowing slightly in reverence for the Seraph who held the whole land of Glenwood as his vessel.

“Lord Maotelus, welcome back,” she greeted. “We’re glad that you’ve awoken. “

“As am I. I apologize for making you all wait,” his voice boomed and then tapered off into a curious hum. “The Water Seraph isn’t with you.”

“Mikleo is out on short journey to visit the ruins of Glenwood. We… did not anticipate you would return so soon.”

A tail swished out of the shadows, tapping the ground impatiently.

“Ah, then we have a problem, don’t we….?”

Lailah breathed in sharply. _Sorey_ , she thought immediately. She looked forward, straining to see through the shroud of darkness before her. She could make out Maotelus but no Sorey.

“He will return without fail. He has been waiting for many years—“

“For his friend, is it?”

“For Lord Maotelus, as well.” Lailah said quickly. It wasn’t a lie, but she supposed Mikleo did look forward to Sorey more.

“And you intend to take the Shepherd Sorey in until his friend returned, do you not?”

Lailah nodded. “Yes.”

“Hmm….” Maotelus swished his tail, seemingly in thought.  “… the ruins in the plains…is it?”

“Huh…?” Lailah questioned.

“Worry not about the Shepherd,” The Seraph announced after a while. “I’ve sent him after the Water Seraph.” There was amusement in his voice. “It would be best not to delay their meeting any further. Consider it my act of gratitude.”

The Fire Seraph blinked, unsure about what Lord Maotelus had meant… until it dawned on her.

_“Oh.”_

 

* * *

 

“Sorey.”

Words crowded in his mind the moment he uttered that name. The things he’d wanted to say, needed to say. He wasn’t sure what to say first and in the end, he just smiled as he grabbed at that hand and let himself be pulled up.

And then he was able to see his face clearly; the face he’d struggled to recall. Suddenly, he _remembered_ , as if he hadn’t forgotten. This was Sorey. It really was him. The same green eyes, the same bright smile.

It was easy to forget all the fears he’d had throughout the years for this meeting at that moment.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Mikleo,” Sorey said.

“Well,” he swallowed the lump at his throat. “I’m seeing you.”

Sorey’s eyes softened. “I guess that’s true.”

Mikleo stood then and brushed the dirt off his clothes.  He smiled at Sorey and said the first thing on his mind, “I didn’t expect you to be here.”

A tiny seed of doubt appeared in his mind. What if he was hallucinating? He was far from Camlann. And if Sorey was here, then Maotelus had awoken too… 

“I’m not entirely sure how I got here, either… to be honest. But—“ Sorey smiled back. “You were here, so…”

Mikleo reached out and touched Sorey’s face. He’d held his hand – and they’d been warm – but what if he was hallucinating? Some kind of vivid day dream. But Sorey was warm to touch and definitely tangible.

“It’s really me. I’m home, Mikleo.”  

Over eight hundred years; that was how long he’d waited. And now that wait was over. It was overwhelming. He was happy but at the same time…. So many other emotions flooded inside him.

He felt the tears on his cheeks before he realized he was crying.

“Mikleo…?” Sorey moved but whatever it was he wanted to do, Mikleo beat him to it as he pulled his best friend into a tight hug.

“Welcome back,” he whispered and then repeated again, louder this time, “Welcome back, Sorey.”

Sorey hugged back just as tightly and in that instant, Mikleo thought, everything would be fine.

He’d been afraid, before, that when they met again, he wouldn’t feel anything. But there could be no doubting  the wealth of gladness inside of him, the sense of finally regaining a piece he’d lost, and Mikleo was glad.

And for a while, he just held onto Sorey as tightly as he could.

 

* * *

 

They wandered the ruins together after that with Mikleo showing Sorey several passages that had been undiscovered during his time. They eased into a familiar routine, which was strange and altogether familiar for Mikleo.

They kept their conversations strictly about the ruins. And Mikleo was glad for it. He knew that even if they fell into place together like gears in a well-oiled machine, there was still a gap of over eight hundred years between them. Sorey, he knew, understood that as well. They would take it slowly and Mikleo would be there to guide him through it all.

“At first, I wasn’t sure it was you,” Sorey admitted on their way to the nearby town. “But I knew I had to follow you anyway… I wanted to be sure.”

“Lord Maotelus wouldn’t have sent you there if he didn’t think you’d find me.”

“I guess that’s true,” Sorey sighed. “I don’t know what I’d do if it turned out it wasn’t you….”

“Let’s just be glad it _was_ me,” Mikleo crossed his arms together.

“Yeah… “ Sorey looked at him and then reached out to touch his hair. “You look really good with long hair. So it’s not a bad change…”

Mikleo turned red. “Wh-what… what kind of….?” He looked away and Sorey laughed.

“I really like it. I think it suits you a lot.”

Just then, the town came into view. Sorey seemed to freeze in the spot.

“Sorey…?”

“I guess I’m just a bit….  It’s going to be different from what I’m used to, isn’t it?” he whispered.

Mikleo closed the gap between them and then took Sorey’s hand in his. He nodded. “It will be. “ He squeezed Sorey’s hand. “But I’ll be here. “

Sorey squeezed his hand back. “Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

Mikleo woke to the feeling of warm arms wrapped around him and steady breathing. When he cracked an eye open, he noticed the bed beside him was empty. He sighed.

“Did I wake you up?”  Sorey asked sheepishly from behind him. Mikleo felt his face pressed against his back.

“I guess you can’t sleep, after all, huh?”

“Yeah, no. I tried—but I guess it reminded me of how it felt – not that I felt anything… just. I didn’t feel like missing anything anymore.”  Sorey tightened his hold on Mikleo just a bit more. “I’m glad you’re still here, Mikleo.”

“I’m not the only one here, you know….  Lailah, Edna and Zaveid… and everyone else in Elysia are still around.”

“Yeah, I know that… but just…” Sorey paused.  He repeated himself, softer this time. “I’m glad.”

Mikleo was certain, then, that Sorey must be remembering everyone else who wasn’t here anymore. Rose, Alisha, Sergei, Lucas…

His right hand fumbled in the dark until it found one of Sorey’s hands. He held it and gave it a squeeze.

“I’ll be here for as long as you want. Don’t worry.” He smiled. “And when you’re done reading the records I wrote for you… we can go out there and visit all the ruins we can find.”

“I’d like that.”

Sorey gave his hand a squeeze of his own.

“And just so you know, Rose left me a message for you….”

“Huh?”

“She told me- it’s terrible of you to make ladies wait so long for you.”

Sorey laughed. “That sounds just like her.”

“It does, doesn’t it…?”

There was a moment of silence after that. Both of them knew better than to bring up Rose any more than that. Talk of the past and everything Sorey missed during his slumber could wait. Tonight, they were content to just stay like this.

“Hey, Sorey…. “ Mikleo murmured sleepily. Sorey hummed in response.  “Later… There’s something I want to tell you….  In the morning. Will you listen?”

He couldn’t remember what Sorey said after that, all but ready to sleep as he was. But in his dreams, he heard Sorey echo the words he meant to tell him tomorrow…


End file.
